


Remember

by agent85



Series: Written Before Season 2 [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Basically I wrote this before season 2 and I'm just posting it now, F/M, Fitz forgets everything that happens on the BUS, angst ensues, post season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 1 AU in which Fitz forgets everything that's happened since he met Ward, including his changing feelings for Simmons. They go back to being best friends, but is that enough when Simmons knows they could be more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

She tries not to watch him as he works, to notice how his shirt sleeves are rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. Years of tinkering and innovating had built those arms, she knows. She'd been there, beside him, from the beginning. And yet, somehow, they escaped her notice.

He puts his tools down and moves past her, and she has to brace herself for the way he will brush against her, for the musky smell of him that feels more like home than any place she's known. 

He thinks nothing of it, she knows. It's a necessary part of working together in this lab. They've known each other for the better part of a decade, so used to the presence of the other that personal space ceased to be an issue long ago. It's only now that she feels a strange sort of loss, that she misses him when he is only ten feet away from her. But maybe it's not the distance. Maybe it's the way he's not looking at her.

She should be grateful, of course. It's a miracle that he even woke up, let alone that he came out of the ordeal relatively unharmed. After all the tears she wept, and all the sleepless nights, she should be content with the fact that he remembers her, that he was able to go right back to being her partner. She should just be happy that they are Fitzsimmons once again.

She should not mourn the loss of the past nine months.

Sometimes, she has to remind herself that she still has the time he lost, that just because he doesn't remember stepping foot on the BUS, it doesn't mean that nothing happened. But she puts her head in her hands and knows that she can't bear this burden for the both of them, not for long.

She hears her name, and she looks up to find his concerned face staring down at her. Yes, she assures him, she's fine. Just tired. It's been a long day, after all. But when she feels his hand gently grip her shoulder, she almost falls apart.

It was very normal, the psychologist said. People waking up from traumas like his often have gaps in their memory. And, given the circumstances, it makes sense for him to block out everything he can about the man that left him to drown at the bottom of the sea. The betrayal hurts too much for him to process right now, but maybe it will come back some day. She hates herself for wishing for it, but she does. He's hiding the pain, but he's hiding a piece of her with it. A piece of them. And maybe she didn't know about it until the moment before it was gone, and maybe she never even thought about it until she was hovering over his hospital bed, but that part of them was there. As selfish as it is, she wants that part back again.

She's been forbidden to tell him. When she warned the psychologist that she would tell him anyway, she was informed that they would remove her from the premises if she disobeyed. So, here she is, waiting, trying not to watch him. Trying not to tell him that he's more than just a friend to her; he's everything.

Maybe it would be better for the both of them if she'd forgotten, too. But she remembers the look in his eyes as he laid down his life for hers, and she tells herself that any pain is worth enduring if she can just hold on to that image.

She has to excuse herself, because as hard as it is to be away from him these days, sometimes it's harder to be near him. She walks towards her bunk and wonders what it was like for him when he knew and she didn't. She wonders how he managed to hold it all in.

The tears come before she makes it to her bed, and she grabs a pillow to muffle the sound of her sobs. He's still here, she tells herself. He's still her best friend. It should be enough.

She doesn't know how long she's in there, clutching at her pillow like it's a life preserver, but she's not ready for the door to creak open, and for his arms to wrap wordlessly around her. She should say something, but all she can think of is the time this happened before, another moment that is lost somewhere inside of him.

Instead, she tries to revel in the fact that he is close to her, that he is holding her, and that he followed her into this room like he followed her onto the plane, and that no matter what happens, they will always be together.

Maybe his love will come back, even if his memories don't. Maybe the seeds of it were there long before they started this journey. If only she knew how to help them grow.

Through her sobs, she pulls him in tighter, because she has words for him now, and they might turn him away. But she can't live like this anymore. Her desire for him has turned from a secret into a lie, and he deserves better. 

_Remember, remember_ , she pleads, and she's not sure if she says it aloud or not, but she knows that he's listening.  _Remember the secret that I'm keeping from you. Remember, so I can tell you._

_I have so many things to tell you._

If she can't give him the truth, she will ask him to find it.

When she wakes up the next morning, the smell of him lingers in her bed, and she wonders how long he stayed before tucking her in and kissing her on the forehead. She tries not to think about other ways his scent could have gotten there.

When she emerges from her bunk, she finds him and the cup of tea he has waiting for her. He hands it to her, and when she accepts, his fingers brush against hers, and the electricity is so thrilling that he must have felt it too. She searches his eyes, and she thinks she sees a trace of it, that maybe his cheeks have a pink tinge to them. When he averts his gaze, she knows.

And somehow, right now, that's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I actually have a handful of completed stories in this vein, which I wrote between seasons one and two. All of them have been canon balled, of course, so they feel a bit outdated now. That said, would you be interested in reading them? I don't want to flood the tag with stuff that people aren't interested in. :) Let me know, and thanks for reading!


End file.
